Better Left Unsaid
by crazed spyromaniac
Summary: Ginny's life is far more complicated than what it appears to be. No longer the innocent child she once was before leaving for Hogwarts, she ponders her life, love, and friends before taking the final step to the end of her life's journy
1. To Have Loved

Better Left Unsaid

AN: Harry Potter is not mine.

I loved him, and suppose I always did. Sure, I had my crushes on other guys, and even had a few short relationships with as few, but even with them I never felt complete. Every guy that I dated gave me everything a girl could ask for: money, attention, jewelry, candy, and compliments no matter the state of my health or horrid appearance. Yet, I couldn't help but want him, the one who never gave me the time of day until he needed something, or someone to make fun of when he had a bad day. To me, he was perfect, despite his faults that ultimately forced him to be choose what he really wanted in his life. A decision, so precarious, that the entire world held their breath, and I waited beneath my favorite weeping willow, my faith in him never once flickering in the cruel wind.

The long day finally ended, and the grueling hours spent inside the dank dungeon were finally over. Her beautiful red hair whipped around her face and sent her winter robes billowing around her ankles. The rain thundered upon her petite frame, and stung her eyes. She did not care; she loved the rain, the cool droplets impaling her creamy skin helped her forget about her day and the days before that.

Contrary to the popular belief that she hung around her brother and his friends all the time, she actually spent much of her time outdoors beneath her favorite tree. She had her own friends; multitudes of them, but no one she was close with. Although a Gryffindor, many of her friends were Slytherins; they gave her a sense of comfort that they other houses did not. The one person that she allowed to be "close" to was Blaise Zabani.

Her and the seventh year Slytherin had been friends long before she entered Hogwarts. The sole reason the two were "close" was because of the obscenely long time the two had known each other. She did not trust many people. Although, she appeared to put her life in Harry Potter's hands many a times, and for the most part she was always in control of the situations and knew the best way to escape from them.

Finally, she made it to her tree; the tree she always came to when she needed to think. She muttered a quick drying spell over the place on a thick wooden branch near the bottom, and then quickly muttered a protection spell to keep her from being drenched.

She leaned back onto her tree branch, her eyes watching with fascination as the rain dripped from the crying tree onto the soggy ground around her. A twig snapped like that of a brittle bone. She quickly reached for her wand, her spidery finger tips clutching the end, as she waited for the stranger to finish their journey to her sacred refuge. She did not wait long, and the gaunt thin faced, scraggly blonde haired man approached her. His blonde hair, once sleek, now limply hung about his bony face, and his cold silver gray eyes, now seemed duller and more sadistic than they had in the prior years. This man, dangerous as he was, looked to be nothing more than a walking corpse.

She stared at him for a moment, before delicately hopping off of the tree. He stepped toward her, his papery lips grimaced into an ugly smirk.

"Where is he, Weasly?

"Where is who, Malfoy?" she demanded gruffly.

"My son, you poor, insolent, girl! Do you wish for me to make you subservient to me?" he growled, his hands disappearing into the deep folds of his robes.

"I do not know where he is, Luscious," she spit viscously, "and even if I did, I would not tell you."

Angered, he lunged at her. She side stepped him, but did not notice the shinny dagger he pulled from his robes. The dagger caught her in the chest, and she made no sound as it ripped her creamy flesh, and tore its jagged mark to her navel. Blood gushed freely from the gaping open wound, but she did not whimper or cry out. Instead she raised her wand, her paling face staring straight into the dull ones of Luscious Malfoy, as she spoke the words he never expected her to utter. The last thing he saw, before the flashing green light blinded him, were her cool, sympathetic hazel eyes, before the fiery white light licked at him. He felt his soul being dragged away from his body, which slowly fell limply to the soggy, grassy land, and though he no longer was in his body, he could feel the burn of his sins eating him.

Heavily, she collapsed against her tree branch. The protection spell broke, and the rain tumbled in and intertwined with her maroon blood. It stained the brown dirt to a dingy black. She stared fixedly at the man she just murdered, but she could feel no remorse. Darkness started to engulf her, but she refused to allow it to consume her. With great effort, she dragged her heavy limbs away from the tree. She was dying, she knew that, but she refused to allow herself to fall before the vile man who had injured her. She knew she needed to at least attempt to mutter a healing spell, but the effort was too great, and she needed her strength to battle the harrowing weather.

Upon reaching the middle of the huge stone-walled quad, she knew she was only a little ways from the grand double doors of the Great Hall. Blood continued to gush from the long slash, and finally the attempt to reach the doors became too much for her weakened body to handle, and she collapsed against she wet ground. Water splashed as her body heavily hit the floor. She closed her eyes, and hoped of all people _he_ would not find her; he did not deserve to see her like this.

When she woke, she found herself in the pristine white qualms of the hospital wing. Her chest and stomach ached, and burned when she moved. Disappointed, she groaned. She expected to see the pearly gates of the greater beyond, not still be trapped in this desolate plane.

"Did you honestly expect Heaven to welcome a murder with open arms?" a lilting voice questioned dryly.

She cracked her hazel eyes open bit, and found herself staring into the slate gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. His eyes churned with relief and concern, and quickly he adverted his gaze.

"Of all the people to murder my father, I never thought it would have been a Weasel."

"I.." she never finished her sentence as she burst into a coughing fit.

Draco handed her a small glass of water and instructed, "Drink slowly."

She obliged, and he took the cup from her. "I do not wish to hear why you did it; I know if I was in your position I would have done the same. As far as I am concerned, my father died of natural causes, and please do not seek me."

With his piece spoken, he exited the Infirmary. Ginny rested her head against the fluffy pillow, confused as to why he was not angry with her. Madame Pomfrey bustled to her only ward, a beaming smile fixed onto her face.

"Oh, Miss Weasly, welcome back. We thought we had lost you for a while. Had Mr.Malfoy not have found you when he did, oh the aftermath would have been simply dreadful."

"Ah, Poppy, I see our young hero decided to come back to us," Dumbledore said quietly, his blue eyes twinkling a bit.

Poppy quickly agreed, and left the headmaster and his student alone.

Ginny said in a scratchy voice, "I am no hero. I murdered a man."

"So you did, but you murdered a man whom you thought was to kill you; a sadistic man, who if was not stopped, your death would not have been the only tragedy Hogwarts would have mourned."

The meaning was not lost on Ginny as her eyes hardened, she said, "I see. I suppose that war leaves no body unchanged."

"Often times our personal wars are the greatest wars of all, and they change the least likely of people."

As the Headmaster left Ginny, he turned and stared at the frail girl, who was as strong-willed as the boy he had come to think of as his son. Sadly, he knew the future of the young girl, even if she was unsure if it herself.

When I look back on that day, I remember how naive I was. I didn't understand why Draco did not hate me, yet I knew that nothing really changed him. After I was finally released from the Hospital Wing, he was just as nasty as he always was. He spared me no mercy with his silver tongue, and still ignored me like I was yesterday's news. The threat of Voldermort was closer to us than before, and as the days passed to weeks, the Golden Trio grew more apprehensive. Months later, I believe, is when I finally approached Draco with the question that would change the course of history. With Blaise at my side, I found him, and needless to say, he was quite surprised at my request.

"Where do I go to receive my mark?" Ginny asked quietly, yet firmly. She stood tall as she approached Draco, who silently raised a pale eyebrow at the curly dark brown haired boy who stood by her side. It was common knowledge Blaise stood with the light in the war, something that caused many Slytherins to despise the handsome boy. Blaise shrugged his shoulders and glanced away from him, knowing that if Draco stared long enough he'd read him like an open book.

"And why would the Gryffie kitten want to know this?"

"I am anything but a 'kitten'," she responded quietly, "I am a bigger part of the dark than you know."

He barked a dry laugh and said, "So you proved earlier in the year. You made even the Slytherin Prince proud."

"I am glad I have pleased him so, however, I have also come to make a second request."

"And what would that be?"

"That my joining the ranks be kept a secret between the three of us."

"Does the fool of a headmaster know what you are doing?"

"No," she answered truthfully.

"I see," after a moments thought he said, " Then meet me in the dungeons tonight."

That night I received my dark mark. Voldermort claimed me as his 'special pet.' I was given special assignments to prove my loyalty to him and his cause. Years of being the youngest child and practically ignored made my task a little easier. After all, who better to kill the Dark Lord, than some one who already has a part of him inside them? No one knew, aside from Blaise, and to this day I regret telling him. Ultimately, his actions proved only to help me, although at the time, I thought he ruined me. Draco stood by my side the entire time I was a slave to my "Lord". We grew closer through some of the "missions" we had together, and it was those I actually had to kill innocents. I think he knew better than any of the fools in both orders what my plans were. So, when I requested one last thing from him, he was not shocked by it. He knew. He always did.

"Draco, will you do me one last favor?" she asked quietly as they stared at the midnight blue sky and watched the twinkling stars be obscured from the gray-black smoke from the burning house beside them.

He grunted, and did not turn to look at her. His stomach flip-flopped and his heart accelerated. He knew what her request was; he had been anticipating it for years. Fumbling with a package of cigarettes, he lit one, but did not place it in his mouth.

"Blaise finally told the Order I have 'double crossed' them," she began, her eyes never leaving the sky. "Dumbledore, though a fool, knows what I am about to do. What I want to know is, will you join the Order?"

He took a long drag from his cigarette, and glanced over at her form. She did not look at him and instead continued to gaze at the stars.

"I don't know. I will be killed if our "Lord" finds out what you plan to do."

"He will not be alive long enough to kill you," she replied evenly.

He sighed, knowing if her plan failed, she would be dead, along with the entire Order. He also knew he was fighting for the cause he did not believe in, and never had believed in.

"I do not know," he repeated stonily.

"When you figure it out, I'll be waiting for you. You'll know where to find me," Ginny replied, as she stood and walked away from him. He watched her leave, his eyes never leaving her backside.


	2. Losing is to Change, When Love Has Gone

Better Left Unsaid

AN: I decided to break this up into two separate parts considering the length. So, I hope you enjoy!

I waited beneath my weeping willow tree for hours. I knew in my heart what he would do, as I said, I never once lost my faith in him. When he approached the tree, his head bent low, and his steel eyes glittering in an emotion I had never seen him wear. His choice, to help the Order changed my plans greatly. One person I cared for, would not have to die. He stared at me, in my tree for a long while, before he finally spoke.

"Where did you place the people you killed?"

"I can not tell you that. In time you will find out."

"Gin, what do I tell Golden Boy? Everyone is so shocked about you joining our ranks, that they want to see you dead. Do you know The Daily Prophet was calling you "Red Death"? You are solely responsibly for the deaths of over a thousand innocents!"

"And so are you, though, perhaps you have killed them in the same manner I did."

Realization dawned upon his flawless features. He gaped at me in an uncharacteristic way. This was not the first time I had made him speechless, and I savored the moments when he could not think of a quick enough response.

Quietly he said, "Do what you must, and when all is said and done I'll wait for you under your tree."

"I need you to help Dumbledore. Do not wait for me; do not help me. I am not your priority; helping Golden Boy and his posse is."

Draco opened his mouth to protests, but were left unspoken as I leaned over and kissed him. He pulled away from the kiss, his normally stone face, immediately flickering with emotion. As fast as it appeared, it left his face, pale and ghostly. I squeezed his hand tightly , and gazed at his stormy eyes for a moment longer. Then I left him, standing beneath the weeping willow, with my red hair flowing in the wind like different shades of golden fire. My black and white robes billowed around my ankles as stepped across Hogwarts grounds, and stood in the open, vulnerable to any one's attack. Draco emerged from the depths of the tree, to call my name to warn me, but there was no need.

Lord Voldermort stood in front of me, his legions of Death Eaters following behind him, like a trail of ants. His cold scaly hand grasped my arm, and I felt a shiver reach my spine. Whether it was to be in fear or the wind, I do not know. He pulled me to his side, his "queen" that was to lead him into the most remembered battle of the era; a battle he believed we would win.

Harry walked out of the castle, his messy black hair billowing in the wind, and his pale face causing the scar on his forehead to burn vividly. His green eyes blazed in defiance, fear and anger. He had lost many friends and what little he considered family to this man, and he was prepared to kill him. He no longer had anything to hold him back.

Draco slipped back into the shadows of the tree. Observing the "Great Battle", he lit a cigarette. He watched Harry's face contort with the disgust as he approached me. Harry's scowl bit at me and if I cared, my heart would have broken. Unlike Draco, Harry's heart was filled with vengeance and lack of fear, the two things that cause a hero to be foolish and predictable.

"I am here! This is our last fight," Harry screamed at Voldermort.

Voldermort chuckled, and as he did so, the ribs in his chest seemed to clack together and rumble in his chest. He spoke in deep, slithering cracked voice, "Indeed it is our last fight, but it is not me you are to fight. I will not bloody my hands over you. However, my queen will, and she will take pleasure in killing you."

"Your queen is nothing more than a common whore."

I stepped up to Harry and from the corner of my eye, I saw Draco smirk. Raising my wand to Harry's chest, I saw him gulp. In his emerald eyes I saw his sudden fear of me, that was soon replaced by his stubborn defiance. The rest of the Order filed to the make shift battle field, and soon curses were being flung all about me, Harry, and my Lord. Draco had long since decided to join the din of the battle, and where he disappeared to I could only hope he was safe. Harry took this moment of distraction to attempt to disable me, but I was to quick and dodged his curse. Voldermort left my side for a moment, giving me the opportunity to turn to Harry.

Piteously I looked at him, his face bloodied from a fight he knew he was going to loose. "I'm sorry, Harry. Really I am, but you'll understand someday."

A shot of green light burst from my wand, and Harry's eyes clamped shut. His body fell limply to the ground, and splashed in the wet mud. The entire world seemed to slow, as Hermione shrieked as she watched her friend's body fall. Her eyes flashed, but she was unable to come after me.

I felt the tug at my arm and knew Voldermort was near. Not that I needed his tattoo on my arm to know when he was by me; the mark he emblazoned on my soul was reminder enough of his presence. I was a part of him, and he apart if me.

"Nice job, my pet. You have proven yourself well today. I do not wish you to further involve yourself in these trivial battles. Wait for me at headquarters."

I bowed my head, the roar of the war going on around me reverberating in my ears, and the coppery smell of blood invading my nostrils, along with the acrid stench of burning skin, hair and foliage. Mud squelched beneath my feet, as I prepared to leave.

Harry Potter, the boy who was to save the wizarding community twitched beside my feet. Voldermort glanced at the boy with curiosity, and his mouth twitched into a wicked smirk. Groaning, I silently cursed the boy who would not die; or at least pretend to be dead. I whipped around, to face Voldermort, my wand aimed at his chest.

His red eyes glowed, confusion spread about his mummy-like face. "Why is Potter still alive."

A lazy drawl from behind him responded, "It appears that is because your pet has never killed."

Draco stood behind him, his wand grasped in white knuckles and a shaky hand. His stormy gray eyes raged in a battle that would never be defined; a battle that was truly his own. This is what time had brought us to.

"Do you think that you two are to kill me?" Voldermort asked sneering.

"I am not," Draco said, " But I will help."

Before Voldermort had the chance to retaliate against Draco, his wand flew from his hand. Neatly, Draco caught it, and snapped it. Voldermort gasped as fragments of his wand fluttered to the floor, and was even more surprised as he was caught unarmed by one of the powerful stunning spells he had taught me.

I placed my foot against his throat, and grinned slightly. I had never killed before, at least not intentionally; I was not like Draco, Harry, Dumbledore, my brothers, or the rest of the school involved in battle. This would be my first, last and only kill, and I would take no pleasure from it.

Voldermort croaked, "You wish to die then?"

"Who better to kill you then the one who has been bound to you since I was eleven?"

"You evade my question, although I take pleasure in knowing I have owned you since then."

Laughing bitterly against the wind, I said, "No one has owned me."

Voldermort opened his mouth, but I pressed my foot deeper into his throat. Muttering a quick spell, the broken wand beside me transfigured into a beautiful, gleaming dagger. Green emeralds studded the hilt, and a single red ruby stood in the middle. Draco's mouth formed an 'O' as he started to run toward me.

I knew he recognized the dagger; after all it was the same one that had nearly killed me. Closing my eyes, for a moment, I firmly kept my foot placed upon the Dark Lord's throat. He did not struggle, perhaps because he thought that I would not go through with what I have had planned for years. Time passed slowly, as it did whenever something important was about to happen.

Draco lunged for me, his lover, his friend, but he was far too slow. He landed with a loud thud as I plunged the dagger deep into the Dark Lord's chest. Warm blood rushed from the wound, and he bucked up. His slick black blood bathed over my hands, and I grunted in pain. I felt my skin feel as if it was the one to be ripped open, and quickly I removed the knife, and went for the fatal blow. I raised the knife to his throat, like he had done to so many others, and sliced it from ear to ear.

His head drooped forwards a bit, before falling backwards, letting the gaping maroon-black hole in his throat grin up at me. The blinding white pain flashed through my body like a hot branding iron. With the strength I had left in me, I drove the dagger through my heart. I fell to the bloody mud, the Dark Lord's body by my side, and Draco on my opposite side.

Harry Potter's mouth was set at a grim line. His mind still reeled over the last battle, at how he watched Ginny Weasly kill the Dark Lord, with Draco Malfoy helping her. He thought he had died at her hand, but in reality she had only given the illusion that he was dead. He should have expected as much from her; yet, for some reason, in the heat of drawing the line between good and bad, he lost his head.

Today, two months after the final battle had taken place, he sat in huge cemetery waiting for the procession to finish and lower the Wizarding World's Savior into the ground. This was her shining moment, and yet Harry couldn't help but think of how ironic that was. She had found her love, he knew that the moment he watched Draco cling to her cold body, his designer robes being stained darker with her blood, which flowed from every pore on her body.

As her casket was finally lowered into the cold ground, and family, friends, admirers, all brought here as mourners, piled their roses onto the descending casket, a lone person stood back. He clutched a black lily in one hand, Harry vaguely remembered her saying that those were her favorites.

Draco watched with cool slate eyes as the mourners paid their last respects. He refused to show the world what that girl had done to him; he knew she loved him, as he did her, but in the time of war, these emotions were better left unsaid.

Harry stood beside him, awkwardly at first, before asking Draco the inevitable, "Why did she throw it all away?"

Incredously Draco glared at him. Frostily he responded, "How could you call sacraficing yourself "throwing it all away"? She died to save everyone she loved; she died because she knew that even if you did not kill Voldermort, I would, and either way she was to die."

"But love..."

"Love could not save what had been predestined. She was bound to him; her soul and his were entwined since the Chamber. No matter how much love she had, it could not overcome all she had been through."

"Love does conquer all, Draco."

Snorting, Draco said, "No, it doesn't. She would be here with me, but I understand why she did what she did. She died, to save our love."

"I'm confused..."

Rolling his eyes, Draco said, "How surprising. If I had choose not to agree to help her, and went against her, do you think she would be the only one buried in the Weasly plot? For that matter, I would be right beside her, probably killed by her hand. She may have loved me, and she may have died so I could save my self, but it I would have stepped in her way, she would have killed me. So, simply put, she died to save our love."

Finally all the people had left the casket, leaving Draco and Harry alone to stare at the still open grave. Hunching over, Draco lazily walked over to the grave and lightly dropped his flowers atop her casket.

Still not grasping what Draco had meant about Ginny loving him, he watched Draco leave, and noted that a silent crystal tear traveled down his pallid cheek. Harry watched, Draco Malfoy walk away a changed man, a man that over the years the wizarding world knew quite well, as his name, along with Ginny's became legend to be written in the history books forever to come.


End file.
